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Authors: Suzanne Young

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BOOK: Murder by Yew
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If Liz won’t tell you, I will,” she said, removing her damp raincoat and throwing an icy glance at her friend. “Apparently, Bitsy was on the phone to everyone this morning. She called
me
at seven. She knows darn well I never get out of bed before ten on the weekends. She said the police were here yesterday questioning you about Tom Greene, and they think you might have poisoned him. She’s spreading it around that Nancy chased you away from the house last night after you tried to hurt Danny.” Tossing her head, Carol glared at Liz as if to say, “Someone had to tell her.”

The young art instructor looked apologetically at Edna. “It’s true. She called me first and told me—
told
me, mind you—to cancel the class. When I refused, she said she was going to call the other members and warn them away. I’m so sorry, Edna. I tried to talk sense into her, but you know Bitsy.”

Edna didn’t know the woman well, just by reputation that she was the biggest gossip in town. People listened to Bitsy, and most dared not rebuke her because of her wealth and social position in the community. Rumor had it that her husband worked long hours and weekends only to escape his wife’s tongue.

Liz and Carol, both in their late twenties, were of a younger generation and refused to encourage Bitsy’s chatter. Edna had heard Liz diplomatically change the subject on more than one occasion when Bitsy started spouting off in class. Carol, given half a chance, always challenged the old gossip.


If you’d rather we didn’t stay …“ Liz began.


No, no.” Edna, wanting to run upstairs and hide beneath her quilt, spread her arms instead and ushered the two young women into the living room. “Let’s not have Mrs. Babcock spoil our afternoon.”

 

 

 

 

 

Eleven

 

Liz and Carol set up their easels, and class began. When Liz wasn’t giving instruction, the women chattered away about inconsequential things. Carol was excited that her secondhand clothing store, Pleats ‘n’ Pearls, was attracting more customers. Liz entertained them with anecdotes of her two preschool children, and Edna spoke about her plans to spend the rest of the weekend with her daughter in Boston. By unspoken agreement, they avoided any mention of Bitsy or Tom.

At the end of the two-hour session, when Edna saw Liz begin to clean her brushes, she asked, “Would you like tea and something to nibble on?”


No, thank you.” Carol said with a self-conscious laugh. “I’m on a strict diet. Trying to lose a few pounds before I gain it back twice over at Thanksgiving.”


I don’t want you to go to any trouble for me either, Edna,” Liz said, sliding her eyes toward the plates, napkins and glasses spread out on the dining room table. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to rush off. The kids are at my mother’s, and I promised her I’d pick them up by three-thirty at the latest.”

Edna’s smile felt strained as she nodded her understanding. This was what she had feared. She had never known Carol to pass up an offering of food or Liz to refuse at least a couple of her toasted herb squares, even if she took them with her. Friends they might be, and they certainly had proved that today, but eating Edna’s homemade cooking was apparently taboo.


You probably want to get going yourself,” Carol said, closing her paint box and beginning to collapse her wooden easel.

When the women were gone, Edna went to the kitchen and looked at the dishes of tiny sandwich triangles and herb squares she’d prepared so carefully. Close to tears, she grabbed two of the plates and threw the contents into the sink, scooping and stuffing the debris down the garbage disposal as hot tears burned her eyelids. She turned the cold water on full blast and swiped at her tears with the back of a hand before reaching for the switch that would grind the source of her embarrassment and shame into oblivion. Before she could turn on the motor, however, she heard a noise in the driveway and looked up to see Dee’s red convertible pull to a stop before the house.


Drat!” she said aloud, grabbing a towel and dabbing at her eyes. “Just what I
didn’t
need.”

She left the kitchen and was about to turn toward the front door when she remembered her easel and the sketch of the aloe. Competing with Dee for the one opening in Greenthumbs was going to be stiff enough with Dee’s superior knowledge of poisons and potions. Edna’s only edge might be the artwork she’d use in her presentation, and she didn’t want Dee to see it beforehand.

Hurrying to the living room, she had just enough time to pull a few blank sheets from behind the pad and place them on top of the aloe drawing before the doorbell rang. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, looked in the mirror, and used the kitchen towel to clean up her tear-stained makeup before opening the front door.


I heard what happened to Tom Greene,” Dee said without preamble, slipping past Edna into the hallway. “I came by to offer my condolences. He seemed to be a good friend of yours.” She hesitated, a small smile stretching her
mouth but not reaching her eyes. “I mean, besides being your handyman.” She wore a black leather miniskirt and white blouse with billowy sleeves beneath a red leather jerkin, black net stockings, and three-inch stiletto heels. A number of bracelets jingled on her wrists, and multiple gold loops dangled from her ears. The scent of jasmine pervaded the air around her.

Following her unwanted guest into the house, Edna tried to think of something to say. Indignation over the rudeness of this intrusion left her momentarily speechless, but before Edna could catch up with her, Dee quickened her pace and entered the living room. “Why, look what you’ve done.”

They stopped in front of the easel at the same moment and with a start, Edna realized what had happened. In her haste to pull paper from behind the sketch pad, she had grabbed Tom’s portrait as well. The blank sheet on top had fallen to the floor, exposing his picture. At least the Greenthumbs drawings were still hidden, she thought after her initial shock.

When Dee reached for the paper, Edna put a restraining hand on her arm. “It’s not finished. Please don’t touch it.”


It’s a stunning likeness.” Dee clasped her hands together and raised them to her chin. She glanced at Edna, her eyes filled with amusement. “Doesn’t your husband object to your portraying the other men in your life?”


What are you talking about?” Edna felt her temper rise, wanting to slap the smirk from Dee’s face. “I have studied faces for years and have painted any number of portraits. Albert admires my work.”
Does she know the police were here to question me?
Edna wondered.
I bet she thinks the Greenthumbs membership is hers for the asking now.
A mixture of guilt and resentment dissolved what little was left of Edna’s patience. “I’m sorry, Dee, but you’ve come at a bad time. I was just getting ready to leave.”


Oh. Are you going shopping? Maybe I can tag along, help you pick out something a little sexier.” She glanced at Edna’s Pendleton slacks and silk blouse as if they had come from a bargain basement. “We can talk about what to do with your hair.”

Edna was nearly apoplectic at the woman’s insensitivity. “I’m not going shopping. I’m driving to Boston to see my daughter.” She took Dee’s arm and gently but firmly turned her around.


Perhaps tomorrow …” Dee began, trying to wrench out of Edna’s grasp.


I’ll be away the entire weekend,” Edna interrupted. The more Dee struggled, the tighter Edna clasped her upper arm. As she opened the front door and almost propelled Dee out onto the step, she said. “It would be best if you call next time.”

Edna was shaking as she slammed the door. She was not used to treating another person so rudely, but when she recalled Dee’s remarks and insolent manner, she almost laughed thinking about the look of utter surprise on the woman’s face.

Rid of her unwanted company, Edna marched back to the kitchen to finish disposing of the food. In the living room, she picked up the fallen sheet of paper and propped it in front of Tom’s portrait again. Since Dee’s arrival had made her late, Edna decided to leave the rest of the cleanup until her return. She grabbed her overnight case and hurried to the car. Only when she was on the road did she remember that she had intended to call Albert and let him know she’d be with Starling for the weekend.
Oh, well,
she thought,
I’ll call him from Boston.

The slap, slap, slap of the windshield wipers was mesmerizing as they swished away the light but steady rain.
I’ve made a mess of things,
she thought, driving north to pick up Interstate 95.


Albert leaves me alone for the first time in our married life and look what I’ve done.” She spoke to the windshield, feeling close to tears, thinking of Albert’s mischievous blue eyes and shock of white hair. “He’s going to be very angry with me.”

In her mind, she pictured the sparkle leaving Albert’s eyes and a frown deepening as his wide mouth turned down at the corners. “He already thinks I’m too forgetful. Well, maybe I am at times, but I know I didn’t put toxic ingredients in my tea. I really have been very careful with Mrs. Rabichek’s recipes.” Speaking the words aloud made her feel better but didn’t succeed in convincing her completely. Had she mistaken one plant for another? Had mixing liquids together created a poison? “What have I done?” she moaned before focusing her attention back onto her driving.

She stared hard at the wet road, leaning forward over the steering wheel as she merged into traffic on Route 95. When she was safely in the middle lane and had settled into the flow of the other cars, her mind strayed back to her dilemma. “What if they send me to jail?” she spoke again to the windshield. The thought was so horrifying, she refused to consider it. Turning on the radio, she concentrated on her favorite classical station for the remainder of the trip, trying to identify each instrument as music surrounded her, a trick she used to distract herself from worry.

She arrived in Boston shortly after five-thirty, and Starling greeted her with a bright smile, a warm hug, and a change of plans. “Couldn’t get reservations for tonight,” she said, taking the overnight bag from Edna’s grasp. Tall and lanky with straight, shoulder-length auburn hair, Starling had her father’s physique and her mother’s coloring. This evening, she wore faded jeans and an oversized yellow tee-shirt. Ushering Edna into the apartment, she said. “I figured I might as well not waste a good cleaning job, so I went to the market for fillets of sole and fresh vegetables. Do you mind if we eat here?”

Stephanie Davies (dubbed “Starling” from birth by her older brother) was a graduate of Boston University. As a freshman, she had fallen in love with the city, confiding to her mother that she couldn’t think of any place she would rather live. Her condominium, the second floor of an old brownstone, was in Boston’s Back Bay, not far from the Charles River.


Dinner here sounds wonderful.” At that moment, Edna felt the strain of the last couple of days and two restless nights and wanted only peace and quiet in which to forget, though she knew that would be impossible. When Starling took her coat and tote bag and headed for the spare bedroom, Edna moved to the living room and sank into a pillow-soft sofa. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the warmth emanating from the glass-fronted fireplace. The next thing she knew, Starling was shaking her by the shoulder.


Mom. Mother?”

Edna woke slowly, feeling groggy and disoriented, and it took her a few minutes to realize where she was. As the world around her came into focus, she looked up into large brown eyes, very like her own. Starling was securing a lock of hair behind her ear, her brow furrowed with concern.

Edna cleared her throat and struggled to sit straighter. “I must have fallen asleep.”


You must have needed it. I let you sleep for an hour, but you should probably wake up now or you won’t be able to sleep later.” Then, she sat on the edge of the sofa, facing Edna. “What’s going on, Mom? It’s not like you to fall asleep in the afternoon. I know you’re upset over your handyman dying, but it seems to me to be more than that.”

Edna studied her daughter’s face for a minute, trying to decide how much to divulge. She didn’t want to alarm Starling unduly, but she needed to talk to someone. “You’re right. A number of things have been going on, as you put it, but it’s all rather confusing. Would you be a dear and fix a drink for me while I try to clear my head? Then we’ll talk.”

Starling’s frown deepened, but all she said was, “How about a glass of wine? I have a bottle of Riesling cooling in the fridge.”


Sounds like just what the doctor ordered.” Edna’s attempt at an old family joke brought only a weak smile from her daughter.

Before long, Starling was back with two glasses of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers that she set on the coffee table in front of Edna. “Speaking of doctors,” she said, hooking a cushioned stool with one foot and dragging it over beside the couch, “How are you enjoying Dad’s retirement and your new house?” She lowered her slender frame onto the small seat and handed a golden goblet to Edna.


To tell the truth, it’s not turning out to be what I expected.”

Leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and cupping her wine glass in both hands, Starling studied her mother’s face. “What do you mean?”


Oh, it’s not the house. The house is fine. It’s your father. Between golf and then this conference he’s gone off to, I feel I haven’t seen much of him lately.” When they were out, her words surprised Edna. She hadn’t realized how agitated she’d grown over Albert’s being away. Or maybe Dee’s remarks were beginning to get to her.

Starling fidgeted. “It sounds like a temporary thing to me. Maybe he just wants to stay out of your way. You know, let you settle into the house and all.”


He told me months ago that once we found our retirement home, we’d celebrate with a cruise to the Caribbean. He hasn’t mentioned that trip since before the closing, and every time I try to bring it up, he changes the subject.” Edna realized she sounded petulant.


Maybe he’s planning to surprise you and doesn’t want you to ruin his fun. You know how he loves springing things on you. Remember when he bought you that new car and wrapped up the keys in a jewelry box?”

Edna thought for a minute, then laughed. “Yes, and wrapped the small box into a bigger box, then wrapped that box inside an even bigger box.”

It was Starling’s turn to laugh. “When you first unwrapped it, you thought he’d gotten you a new TV.”


Inside the TV box was a microwave carton. I was certain he’d bought me a new microwave, something I really didn’t want at the time.” Edna wrinkled her nose in a grimace of mock displeasure.


What was the next one?” Starling giggled. “A radio, wasn’t it?”

BOOK: Murder by Yew
2.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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